He smiled - more of a smirk than anything - at me from across the bar. I gave an awkward wave, thinking about how his tattered shirt made him look like he had just crawled out of a dumpster. He took that as an invitation to walk over, a glass of a deep, red liquid sloshing over the rim clutched in his right hand.

“Well, hello there, handsome.” He set his glass down next to me, scooting the bar school until it was barely a couple inches from mine.

“What’s your name?” He asked. I should’ve rolled my eyes, laughed and walked away, anything but tell him.

“Jackson.” I took a small sip from my beer, it tasted bitter and I recoiled a bit. The man must’ve noticed for he offered me his drink. I declined with a polite shake of the head. “What do you go by?” I asked instead.

He smiled again, as if the question amused him, “Will.” He leaned in slightly and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You know, Will, I think you’ve had enough.”

He laughed, it was ragged and deep. I caught a glance of a tattoo, one of a rose and the name “Bee” written on it in cursive imprinted at the base of his neck, right above the collar bone. I needed to get out of here.

Instead, “What are you doing tonight?” I asked, a slight blush creeping up my ears. I hoped Will didn’t notice, even though I knew a man with a neck tattoo of someone else’s name was bad news, he was enchanting. He was really fucking with my head.

He took a big swig from his glass, wiping his red-stained mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m cool with whatever you feel like doing.”

Oh boy, I was really in for it wasn’t I?

He said it so casually, not in a lustful way, but in a tone that suggested he really didn’t care. I smiled, and stopped clinging to my beer bottle like it was an anchor.

“Well…”